Chicken Spaghetti

Sweetie

The cashier calls me Sweetie
Shall I call him Hon?
Sweetie does not roll off
The tip of his tongue
He needs more time at the mirror
Rehearsing his words and
Synchronizing the turn of 
The iPad in our direction

Sure, he works in a bakery café
And maybe I should be glad
He doesn’t address me as Muffin
But I know that Grandpa over there
Is going to get a Sir with his Danish
Though I want the cashier to say
Sweetie to him, too, because
I like a little chaos with my coffee

Draft, Susan Thomsen, June 2026

Another coffee poem... and this one with a bakery. Maybe I'm on a roll. (Hahaha.) 

On Friday, June 26, the Poetry Friday roundup is at The Miss Rumphius Effect, and the host is Tricia Stohr-Hunt.